


No One But You

by EllaStorm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Growing Up, M/M, Relationship Development, The Epic Love Story of Sam and Dean, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaStorm/pseuds/EllaStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the relationship between Sam and Dean from each perspective, from kids to men, from brothers to everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Quatre ans d'écart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4394978) by [Willia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willia/pseuds/Willia)



He’s one and there is a smile when he speaks his first words and a hand that guides him when he takes his first steps. Neither belongs to his father.

 

He’s four and there’s an arm that catches him when he falls and an embrace that comforts him when his knees are bloody and tears are streaming down his cheeks. Still, neither of them is his father’s.

 

He’s ten and there are soft words and warm dinners for him when he returns from school, tired and a little bit hurt (because his classmates made fun of him again). It’s not his father who provides them.

 

He’s thirteen and there’s a needle stitching him up after his first hunt and a quiet “I’m proud of you, Sammy” whispered in the dark. His father is not there. His father is never there.

 

He’s fifteen and he’s so, so, so afraid, because he’s never kissed a girl and he doesn’t know what to do, but there’s a clever mouth that tells him, and a sure hand that shows him. His father doesn’t know anything.

 

He’s seventeen and his head is spinning, because he’s feeling things he isn’t supposed to feel, but he confesses anyway. There are fierce kisses and lingering touches to reward him and show him that he’s not the only one who’s lost. For the first time he’s grateful that his father isn’t there.

 

He’s twenty-one and he misses everything, even the bad things, but especially the good ones. There’s nothing there, nothing physical, just the memories and a distant voice on the telephone. His father can go fuck himself.

 

He’s twenty-two and he’s just lost the girl he wanted to marry, but he’s sitting shotgun in the most beautiful car in the world next to the most beautiful man he’s ever known, and in a way it’s more perfect than it has been for a long, long while. There are looks, and touches, still, and kisses, and there’s lovemaking (sometimes languid and slow and sometimes more like fighting), and he feels complete. They’re searching for their father, but somehow he doesn’t matter anymore.

 

He’s hopelessly, helplessly, forever in love with his brother, green eyes, crooked smiles, leather jacket and stupid jokes, whiskey and gun oil and an old, black car. His father will never know.


	2. Dean

He’s five and there’s a chubby hand in his and a giggling soup of syllables pouring out of an infant’s mouth, beginning and ending with something that sounds very akin to “De”. His mother isn’t there to watch, but he’s sure she would smile.

 

He’s eight, and sometimes he feels too young and too insecure to look after his brother all on his own when Dad’s not there, but every time Sammy falls and cries he finds the right patches instantly, and the teary smile on his brother’s face when he kisses the scrapes on his knees better makes him believe that he doesn’t do it all wrong. His mother will never be there to watch, but he thinks she’d do the same.

 

He’s fourteen and he knows every way to make money on the street when whatever Dad left them doesn’t suffice. He never complains, because his brother’s laughter at the dinner table makes it all worthwhile, every single dirty job. His mother can’t see, but he hopes she understands.

 

He’s seventeen and angry, because his father is a self-involved bastard, and because Sam is young, too young to hunt, too young to face all the terrible things lurking in the dark. He doesn’t let it show, though, just stitches his brother up and tells him how proud he is. His mother is not there, but if she were, she wouldn’t let this happen.

 

He’s nineteen and he’s jealous of a girl he hasn’t even met. The only thing he knows about her is that she will get to kiss his brother and the thought alone makes his insides boil, even though he knows it’s fucked up. He hopes his mother would forgive him, were she there, but he’s not sure.

 

He’s twenty-one and he’s had more girls in the last few years than he can count, but he forgets them all when his brother stands before him and confesses how he feels. He knows that he should tell him no, should shove him away, but he can’t, never could, and it doesn’t help that he’s been hoping and yearning for this himself. His mother wouldn’t forgive him, not for this, but she isn’t there to judge when he pins his brother to the bed and kisses him like his life depends on it.

 

He’s twenty-five and he’s more alone than he’s ever been. His brother has Normal now, and he has Dad and the hunt, but it’s not enough, not even close. He drinks and he fucks and he drives, and he misses, misses, misses his brother with every fibre, every day. He wonders, if this is his punishment, if his mother saw, and disapproved, and tore them apart, but that’s stupid to think, and he stops.

 

He’s twenty-six and he’s pulled his brother from a fire (again) that took Normal away from him (again). He should feel guilty, or at least more sorry than he does, but there’s this gorgeous man who once was a boy sitting next to him, smiling his old smile, and all of a sudden the car is filled with air and light and hope, and he feels complete. Maybe his mother, wherever she is, doesn’t care that much about the kisses in the dark, as long as she sees Sammy smile.

 

He’s hopelessly, helplessly, forever in love with his brother, all grown up, nose in his books, tall frame and shaggy hair, dimples and bad taste in music and gentle words. His mother is long gone, and even if she weren’t, she wouldn’t get a say in this.


End file.
